Origin of the Fang
by Kratos Aurion
Summary: This is where it all began. Story of Brendan and how the Black Fang originated. (First part of Fang Trilogy) [Ch. 2: And so the beginning enfolds as I imagined it]
1. Injustice

**_Origin of the Fang_**

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**Injustice**

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"What! You charge me _twenty_ gold for _this_ piece of trash!" scoffed a noble, examining an ornamental plate. A peasant, owner of the store, bowed and answered him meekly.

"It took me four months to finish, milord." The peasant kept his gaze onto the ground, afraid of what would happen.

"It doesn't even look as how I requested it; the wyvern is placed far too left," the noble went on, completely ignoring his comment. "Look! This—what is this? A _crack_?" Shoving the plate into the peasant's face, the noble jabbed a finger arrogantly at the minute break. The peasant startled horribly then began to quiver in fear. "There is a definite flaw under the right claw of the wyvern. This is not _art_, it is _garbage_!" The head of the peasant bobbed even lower, ashamed and afraid.

At the sound of breaking china, the peasant's head snapped up, then tears began to well up in his eyes. "My work…the months, wasted…" With a stifled sob he bent down to pick up the pieces of the plate. The noble gazed down at the stooping figure with growing disgust. Elegantly lifting a heavily booted foot, he grinded the heel of it into the peasant's hand.

"Aahh! M-my lord!" the peasant gasped, writhing in pain as blood seeped beneath the foot and the hand. The noble twisted his ankle a few more times, drawing more agonized screams from the peasant, and then took his foot away.

"Be glad that it wasn't your head," the noble spat acidly, wiping the sole of his boot on a rug that was hanging for sale. "Good day." Only then the noble left, leaving the tearful peasant to cradle his smashed hand against his chest, whimpering and crying as the blood seeped and soaked his coarsely made shirt.

And Brendan Reed witnessed it all, witnessed first-hand the cruelty and the injustice of the so-called nobles. His trembling hand dropped the soup bowl that he had meant to purchase.

_Inequality. Malice. Cruelty. Evil._

None of the words could describe the injustice of it, of the class system. Why should the numerous labor for the few? Why must his people…suffer?

His anger grew, simmered and boiled until black and crimson blocked his view. Black darker than a hopeless night, crimson deeper than the blood of the people. Dark, dark black, bright, bright crimson—black, starless, hopeless night, red, innocent blood of the people—pain—the pain—

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**Author's Note**: Awright! The first installment of the Fang Trilogy has begun. The first installment will revolve around Brendan Reed. I think this fic is the first one to be centered around him...correct me if I'm wrong. :D


	2. Friends

**_Origin of the Fang_**

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**Friends**

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_Thuck._

Brendan wretched his iron axe out of the lifeless corpse of the noble, which was surrounded by bodies of fallen guards. He felt neither anger nor remorse as he watched the blood drip off the blade, staining the ground to a dark color.

He didn't regret what he did. He just wished that he didn't have to go this far. The nobles already had more than enough riches to sustain even their grandchildren; yet why was it that they reached for more? The greed of humans, especially those who had much, was endless. Wealth was like salt water; the more you had, the more you craved. Your thirst was everlasting, never to be satisfied until the end of your life. No matter how much you had, it was just never enough. So the nobles, who had tried the sweet taste of luxury and lavishness and did not want to let it go, pestered the destitute, penniless commoners in order that they may continue living their extravagant life.

He looked up abruptly, breaking out of his thoughts. A sudden chill went down his spine as he realized that even in the dark, someone could have seen. Plus, this murder was sure to not go unnoticed. After all, he had killed a noble. Bounty hunters will come after him, seeking the prize that would be on his head. He had just jeopardized his family by killing the noble rashly!

Cold sweat broke on his back, his thoughts racing around his wife and his two sons, Lloyd and Linus. His sons…and his wife. They were all in danger, all because of him. What had he just done!

Getting up quickly, Brendan raced to the stable attached to the inn that he was staying in. With his thoughts focused on only one thing–his family, his beloved family–he undid the rope that tied his horse to a pole. His fingers fumbled, trembling violently as his mind imagined every crunch of leaves, every thud to be the footsteps of bounty hunters coming after him. When he had finally freed his horse (with difficulty; his shaking hands kept missing), he jumped on it and rode for his home, not even bothering to get his things from his room.

The road was a blur as he urged his steed to go faster and faster, his frantic mind in a daze as the crescent moon quietly shone down on him, as gentle and lovely as Saint Elimine herself.

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"Brendan…?" his wife murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes in surprise. Her husband, who was supposed to be coming back tomorrow with supplies, was standing in front of the doorstep, seeming as though he were a madman. He was leaning on the doorframe, panting for want of air, while she looked on. A sense of dread welled up in her. She may not know what exactly was wrong with him, but she could tell that it was going to be devastating for all of them.

"Brendan? What's wrong?" She put a worried hand on his muscular arm, rock-hard from hunting and farming. She had no idea that the next five minutes would change her life forever.

Brendan straightened up, still gasping slightly, but he was able to talk now. He gazed at his wife, his beloved wife, wondering how he should break the news. Should he tell her? Maybe it was a better idea for him to just run away, alone, in the middle of night, so that his family would not be in danger. "I…today…today…" He hesitated, naturally.

"Tell me," she insisted, softly but firmly. She loved her husband dearly, and whatever was plaguing him, she was determined to help. Brendan gulped once. Whenever she took on that tone, he knew that he had no choice but telling her the whole story.

"I killed someone today," he whispered hoarsely, watching her eyes widen, then quiver in fear. The same look that he must have had when he realized that he had just placed his family in a world of danger. "He was a noble…I…I think someone might've saw…"

"Brendan," she cried despairingly after a thunderstruck pause, throwing her arms around his strong neck. "Why? Why! Oh…no…no…we have to do something!" Gently he unlocked her arms, and gripping her shoulders, he looked into her eyes.

"I'm going to run away," he said slowly, allowing his words to sink into her before continuing. "You and the kids stay here. The bounty hunters won't be interested in you, just me." His wife shook her head violently, even before he had finished speaking. Her body began to tremble with sobs as Brendan continued to speak to her determinedly. "No, listen. I don't want you three in danger. I'm going to flee Bern, and you have to stay here. No, no, let me finish–stop–_listen_ to me! Stop shaking your head! You have to–"

"Brendan," she breathed, tears rolling down her graceful cheeks. She never let go of his arm, even as he averted his gaze by looking anywhere else but at her. "I don't have to do anything but my duty as a wife. And right now, it is to follow you, wherever you go." It was Brendan's turn to protest.

"You'll in danger if you come with me! You have to stay—"

"No, _you_ listen to _me_ this time, Brendan," she interrupted, taking the sides of his face into her hands. She remained silent until Brendan finally looked up, meeting her adoring gaze with a guilty one.

"I love you, Brendan," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "I will follow you wherever you go, even into my death. Even if you leave without me, I will search all of Elibe until I have found you." She pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his arms wrapping themselves around her waist. "And the kids…they love you, as well. They can't live without you, without a father. Please…let us go with you."

His chest felt tight, and he felt a hot lump in his throat. Yes, he loved them…he loved them all. But because he did, he had to leave them behind.

"But…" He just couldn't bear to put them in any kind of danger.

Placing a slender finger on his lips she silenced him. "Brendan. As long as I'm with you, I'm not afraid." Shivering with an overcoming sense of love he gazed at her. He made his decision.

"Come," he said urgently, hurrying to their bedroom. "We have to pack quickly." His wife nodded.

"I will wake Lloyd and Linus," she said. "Will they need any of their belongings?"

"Just things that would prove useful on a dangerous trip," Brendan called.

"Rise, my darlings," she called to her sleeping children, both of whom were in deep slumbers of childhood innocence—that does not last forever. She shook them gently. "We must depart, sweethearts." Lloyd, the elder of the two Reed children, blinked hard, trying to see in the darkness.

"Mommy…?" he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He almost looked comical, with that bewildered expression set beneath the locks of wild dirty blond hair. "It's still dark."

"I know," she said, as Linus stirred awake. Linus was stronger than his older brother Lloyd, also more aggressive and hotheaded for a child.

"Five more minutes—I promise to gather breakfast eggs," Linus mumbled, obviously annoyed that his sweet dreams have been interrupted.

"You don't need to, darling," said their mother, hurrying them to the closet. "Get dressed. We are leaving."

"Leaving?" Lloyd's eyes widened. "Right now? But I have to give Edward his toy back…" He trailed off. Even in his half-asleep state, he could sense that something was dreadfully wrong.

"Edward will probably be able to find the toy on his own," she replied. "Now get dressed, you two. In layers. I will pack your belongings."

As soon as the two children were dressed Brendan stepped in, his back laden with their provisions for the upcoming—and unplanned—trip. "Are they ready?" She nodded. "Good. We depart right now."

"On foot?" she asked, worried for Lloyd and Linus. After all, as strong as they were for their age, the fact remained—they were only children. Brendan shook his head.

"No. We will allow ourselves the luxury of one horse," he said. "We're going to take Mudhoof along; he's the strongest and fastest. We'll have to leave Ribcage and Halftail behind." If it were not for the grave situation, the names spilling out of Brendan's mouth would have almost been funny. The horses' names were quite self-explanatory; Mudhoof had mud on his hooves when they had first bought him; Ribcage had been so thin as she had not been fed for many days; and Halftail, his tail was half-gone, cut off by one of the crueler children for sport, no doubt. But you could not blame Brendan for such silly names; they all have been named by Lloyd and Linus, both of whom favored Halftail the most.

"We're leaving Halftail behind?" Linus cried, and Brendan jumped slightly at the sound of sudden noise. "But—but…"

"There's no time for such childishness," Brendan said, perhaps his tone a bit sharper than he had originally intended. "We go, _now_." He pushed the door open, and his wife gently led the two sniffling children out into the moonlit darkness. Hastily, but as silently as possible, Brendan loaded their belongings onto Mudhoof's back, who merely snorted and nickered softly. His liquid brown eyes were calm and steady, so unlike Brendan's hammering heart. He hoisted his two children up on the saddle, and almost as swiftly as death itself, began to dart across the road with his wife at his side. Undiscriminating moonlight shone gently down upon the fleeing figures, and though Brendan was nervous that someone might see them, he was glad for its soothing light.

All was going well, for a mile or two, but then the bushes nearby rustles and two dark figures jumped out upon the family. Mudhoof neighed loudly and reared back in fright; and Brendan had a hard time calming him down before drawing his sword sharply.

"Identify yourselves!" he called sternly, stepping in front of his wife and his children. One of the two gave a kind of wheezing laughter.

"No need to be so harsh, Brendan. It's just us," it said, and the burly man at once knew who it was.

"Jan!" he cried, moving back in surprise as the two stepped into his full view. "What are you doing here—with Uhai?"

"You were gone for so long at the city," said Uhai in his level voice. "We feared that something was wrong. And indeed—" he gave an inquisitive glance toward the horse "—it seems that we had arrived not a moment too late." Brendan nervously shifted closer to his family.

'It is not of your concern," he said flatly. "Go now, back to your home. And do try and forget what you saw." Uhai shook his head to each side a fraction of an inch.

"Not until you tell us what is going on," he said. And Brendan knew—from experience—Uhai was a stubborn man. He sighed.

"I killed a noble today," he muttered, his head hung low. Uhai raised an eyebrow, and Jan gaped silently and drew back; which neither of Brendan saw. "But he had tormented a poor peasant, and I wished that I could take a revenge. It wasn't anything terribly evil; just impulsive and somewhat rash…"

"Somewhat is not the right word for it, if you had killed a _noble_," Uhai said softly while Jan continued to gawk. Then he spoke more strongly. "And what do you plan to do now, Brendan, now that you find yourself a hunted man?"

Brendan flinched slightly. He hung his head again. "I do not know, but I should like to continue to protect people who cannot defend themselves," he said. "But with being on the run with my family, I am not sure if I can do so."

"True enough," Uhai said. Jan's eyes darted around nervously, as if expecting a herd of soldiers to come running out of bushes as they had and seize them all.

There was a lingering silence, in which Uhai looked thoughtful, Brendan guilty, and Jan, growing more paranoid by the second.

"Intriguing," Uhai said suddenly, and when Brendan looked up at him, a rare smile was upon the Sacaen's hard lips. "Your philosophy is somewhat rough and not yet refined, but it is a noble one, nonetheless. I would join you." Brendan's jaw dropped, as well as Jan's. The two shared a single thought: Join him? Was he out of his mind?

"Join me?" Brendan sputtered, after getting over his initial shock. "I am a refugee, on the run from the authorities, and here you are casually speaking as though it is a heroic quest!"

"Maybe not yet," Uhai said, "but once we had placed ourselves in the border of Bern, we could grow and strive unseen, since so many strangers come and go the area anyway. Your idea could become a belief of many people. And there's safety in numbers." At that, Jan nodded eagerly. He could see where this was going, and he wanted to help his brother, though he was mortally afraid for all their lives.

"I agree with Uhai," Jan offered timidly. Brendan continued to gawk at them in surprise.

"Uhai…Jan…" was all he could manage. Uhai smiled again, somewhat sheepishly, since he had not spoken so many words at once before.

"Forgive me. My mouth has run wild today. But now, maybe you have some direction as to where you are headed," Uhai said quietly. The two men gazed at each other, as Mudhoof gave a soft, impatient nicker, as if to remind them of their current situation. Brendan could feel tears prickling at his eyes, and he hastily wiped at the corner of his eyes before they could fall. First his wife, and now his brother and his dear friend, were all risking their lives…for him. And for his stupid, ideal thought. He felt tight throated, and he could barely find the words to speak to them.

"Uhai…Jan," he repeated hoarsely. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

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**Author's Note**: Updated, finally! Lol!

Wistful-Eyes: _Brendan certainly is no tights-wearing prettyboy. Teheh. _


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